I have listened to deja vu 200+ times now.

Marlow had left his seat in order to take a piss at the nearby tree. It was very rare that he’d be away from the small shed, but he was allowed to take a few minutes to deal with such bodily matters. He sighed as he finished the last few dribbles, shook the last bit, and then pulled up his pants. He returned back to his station, checking on all the gems. He went one by one, taking a small moment so that his brain could register that each was still against the small gem holder. He scanned towards the end and then noticed a broken gem.

He rubbed his eyes and then leaned in. “Sir Anthony,” he said, picking up the pieces within his fingers. Confusion ran through his body first, and then it slowly turned to worry. “Sir Anthony?” Panic set within his heart as it started to pound harshly. “Sir Anthony!” he exclaimed, quickly rushing out of the small cabin. He looked around and then ran forward as he noticed a few figures off in the distance.

“Oi Marlow, are you alright?” called back Sir Mark, smiling at Marlow. “Wet yourself again?”

“Sir Mark,” Marlow said, standing and then saluting the knight. “It’s Sir Anthony.”

“What about him?” Sir Mark asked, looking at Marlow’s face first and then looking at the gem. His smile faded and then he reached out for the broken gem pieces. He picked up one piece and then looked to Marlow. “This is…”

Marlow nodded. “It is.”

Sir Mark felt his heart beat quicken for a moment, but he inhaled deeply. “I’ll inform the Chief.” Marlow handed the broken gem pieces to Sir Mark, saluted him, and then quickly returned to the post.

‘Sir Anthony…’ Sir Mark thought of the drunkard. He was quite the young fool, but his heart was always in the right place when it came to the most important tasks. He was one of the knights of Bloodwall, one of his people, so he could already feel the pang of sadness start to seep into his body.

He moved swiftly, his eyes filled with conviction as he stepped through towards the castle. Others who were walking around noticed the knight, stepping aside to let him passed. There was no one to stop his march as he approached the castle, stepping inside passing the guards.

Sir Mark marched towards the hall, stepping into it as he saw the large back of the Chief looking out the window. Of course the Chief knew already, he probably sensed it. His connection with Sir Anthony was deep due to the circumstances they met one another. Sir Mark marched up and then dropped down to a knee.

The Chief stared out the window, looking out into the night sky. The stars seemed to twinkle darkly tonight. He remained silent for some time, letting Sir Mark remain kneeling down behind him. His thoughts were in disarray, unsure of what he should be thinking.

“Show me,” the Chief finally said.

Sir mark stood and approached, extending out the broken gem. The Chief, looking at the broken gem before taking the pieces into his hand. The different colours and the crack showed him the way he died and what he had been feeling. ‘So he accepted it and watched it come,’ Jax thought. ‘Why would you walk into death?’ Chief Bloodwall wondered.

“Should I find him?” Sir Mark asked.

“No,” Jax turned back to look at the sky. He was going to wait for a little while longer.

It didn’t take long before some steps echoed through the hall and Sir Ozcar knelt down before the Chief. The news had spread like wildfire through the castle, and Sir Ozcar had quickly donned his attire in order to approach the Chief. He remained kneeling, letting his Chief stew his thoughts.

“I picked up Sir Anthony when he was only a wee boy,” Jax said. “I remember the day like it was yesterday. Even now I can feel it, the blood on my hands, the rain on my face. I can smell the scent of a storm, wet fur. I can hear the distant thunder and the screaming.” He closed his eyes and looked down.

It had been a while since his Chief had spoken about that day. That day was when everything in Bloodwall changed, when Jax Bloodwall went from First Elderman to Chief. Sir Oszcar remembered the day well, it was one of the reasons why he gave Sir Anthony his extra task.

Siz Ozcar sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Sir Anthony was a grown man. He knew the consequences of his actions, and he accepted the responsibilities when he swore his Oath.” Jax remained staring at the sky for a long while. He turned to face Sir Ozcar. “Don’t beat yourself up,” he said, stepping down and placed a hand on Sir Ozcar’s shoulder. He squeezed the man’s shoulder gently. “He’s one of ours, a Bloodwall, so his body needs to return.”

“I’ll bring him home,” Sir Ozcar said, nodding his head. He knew what Sir Anthony meant to the Chief, and it was true that they needed to deal with the funeral properly. Sir Anthony may have been an orphan with no relatives, but Bloodwall was his family.

“We’ll bury his ashes under the wall,” Jax said, giving Sir Anthony the greatest of honour. “Take with you Sir Bartholomew and Sir Anya. Whatever the price, return his body. If you need to make a mess to return his body, then so be it. I’ll clean up after you.” He tossed the broken gem towards Sir Ozcar. “Return to me as soon as you can, I’d like to hunt.”

Sir Ozcar caught it, bowed his head, and then left. He went to find both the Sirs, finding Bartholomew first, and then Anya. Anya was midway through taking off her armour when Ozcar had appeared. She caught one look at his eyes, saw Bartholomew, and then nodded understandingly. She put her armour back on and grabbed her blade, placing it to her side. The pair already knew what was happening from the rumours, and considering the three of them were heading out, then it appeared that this was serious.

Many miles away, far to the north where the land was almost always white with snow, sat a group of five in the snow. The flames flickered, licking at them with its heat. Sitting on one log was a man fully adorned in red armour from head to toe, sticking out like a sore thumb. It was as though a thousand men had died over him and showered him with their blood.

“I have a brother,” the man in the red armour said.

One of his companions from beside him snorted, as though ready to sleep. “We know, we know. How many times have you told us now? A thousand times?”

“At least once a day,” another said. “You always speak about your brother, and somehow you always come up with new stories.”

“Tomorrow you’ll tell us he once threw a ball so high it disappeared into the clouds,” one said, giggling at him.

“No,” the man in red replied. “Isn’t that too unbelievable? Everything I’ve told you about him has been completely true.”

“Even the story about him pissing off the side of the wall with you?”

The man in red smiled through his helmet and the others could tell. “I was a bad influence on him when I was younger, though we shouldn’t be using crude words now that we’re knights.”

“I’ll fucking say whatever bloody words I want to, you pissing bastard!”

“Well, back to my story. I have a brother. He’s small and cute, though I haven’t seen him in a few years. I remember the day I met him. He was just a little baby, a near newborn, and my father brought him home while covered in blood, wet from all the rain. He said that it was my little brother and that I needed to make sure to treat him right.” The man in red looked up at the sky, which was hidden behind the white fog. “It wasn’t just him, though. There was another. He was an orphan who had lost his parents. He watched as they were slaughtered right in front of him, but he didn’t tell me by what, and my father wouldn’t tell me either.”

“Sounds nasty,” the woman said. “What happened to the guy?”

“He became addicted to poison, but he became a proud knight of my father.” The man in red smiled again. “He was like a brother to me as well, though he wasn’t anywhere near as strong as me. He was one of the only few who didn’t act like I was a little prince, the Chief’s boy. To him, I was Oliver. We didn’t really get along, but we both liked Jack.”

“Why didn’t you like him?” The girl leaned in, wondering why someone so upright like Sir Oliver didn’t like a guy. “Was it because he was a drunkard?”

“No,” Sir Oliver said, turning to face her. “He got to see Jack before me.” He snapped a twig between his fingers. “Even though I’m his older brother, why did Sir Anthony get to see him first? It’s not fair! I’ll never get that back!”

The woman sighed. “There he goes, crying about his little brother again.”

“He’s lucky he’s so strong, otherwise he’d grow up worthless,” another companion said, shaking his head. “Anyway, enough about the drunkard and your little brother.” The man stood up. “The Feyking should be here.”

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